


At the Foot of Your Altar

by Minorobsessions



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Feral Dimitri, First Time, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Sad Ending, Virgin Felix, but like you should read it anyway, this is...sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minorobsessions/pseuds/Minorobsessions
Summary: At this Felix barks out a laugh, and all at once it dawns on him that they’re all just following delusions blindly into battle. “I left? This isn’t my fault, your majesty.” Felix flinches as the man above him snatches his hand out of the air where it was traitorously making its way toward the other’s face.“Don’t call me that.” Dimitri says as he laces his fingers through Felix’s. He brings them back up to his face, and for the first time in over a decade, Felix feels, what he thought to be, the lost warmth of this corpse’s flesh.orFelix encounters a Feral Dimitri one sleepless night. Things...ensue.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	At the Foot of Your Altar

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh idk why I'm writing such sad stuff as of late but enjoy it while it lasts, animals!

Felix does this sometimes when he can’t sleep, more often now that what they’re fighting is undeniably a war. He wanders the monastery grounds, following the moon when sleep evades him. He used to run into others on occasion. Once it was Mercedes and Annette, walking in hypnotic circles, their heads bowed silently, clutching to each other’s hands like some sort of unraveling lifeline.

Once he saw Sylvain backed up against a wall with some knight on her knees in front of him. He passed right through his line of vision, but Felix knew he wasn’t spotted. Sylvain’s eyes were blank, nothing in them but the moon’s reflection and an almost unrecognizable glassiness Felix had lost the privilege of seeing long before they first came to the academy. 

Now he sticks to the shadows, keen to participate in only his own depressing nighttime rituals. He dives between them with a certain flighty spring he doubts he’ll ever shake from his muscle memory. Like taking cover on a battlefield.

When he lifts his head tonight he’s surprised to see he’s found himself at a small side entrance to the grand cathedral. He looks questioningly at the moon’s round glowing face. 

Felix has never been a particularly devout man. He doesn’t have enough hubris to actually claim the goddess doesn’t exist, he just knows she doesn’t care about him. The moon on the other hand...He would of course rather die than admit it, but she gives him a sort of comfort. Perhaps it’s that his anger can’t reach her. So night after night she’s there to guide him when he can’t sleep. 

Pathetic. Cliche. He knows. 

Felix slips into the narrow passageway and the shadows swallow him like an embrace. He rarely spends any time at the cathedral during the day, so by night the pillars and frescos form silhouettes wholly unfamiliar to him. Looming shapes throw shadows tens of feet long, and by this light, saintly statues and demonic beasts don’t seem so different. 

Making his way toward where the grand altar once stood it isn’t these twisting forms that frighten him, but the throaty muttering that wafts through the pews. Careful not to make a sound, he picks his way through the debris until his eyes fall upon a disturbing sight.

Dimitri lays upon his cloak and stares up blankly at the vast ceiling, eyes wide open and lips moving rapidly. His limbs are splayed and his chest expands and deflates at an impressive rate. 

The image thrusts upon his mind a memory of twelve year old Dimitri, spread in an innocent reflection of where he lays now, panting in the grass as he grinned at Felix’s training sword positioned directly under his jugular. 

“I let you win,” he said as he tried to pry Felix’s boot off his chest. Felix just laughed, overjoyed by the fact that he’d managed to distract Dimitri away from Glenn’s glamor long enough to fit in a sparring session.

Felix steels himself and strides forward, now making no effort to conceal his presence. 

“You’re insane,” he spits as he kicks the prince’s shoulder sharply. Dimitri does not laugh this time. In seconds, his eye hardens. He spins onto his knees and draws a short sword from his waste-band. He launches himself at Felix, driving the sword’s hilt into the back of his knee. 

Felix grunts and falls hard, the fur cloak beneath them does nothing to soften the blow from the cathedral’s marble floor. Dimitri climbs upon Felix’s writhing form, pinning his elbows beneath his knees and pointing the blade just under his jugular. Whether it be the nostalgic echo this image makes, or the excitement that a capable fighting partner brings doesn’t matter, Felix’s heart falters and he hates himself for it. 

It’s like a sheet of ice melts from that singular eye when Dimitri returns his gaze. What Felix sees surprises him in a way that the monotony of war has made him forget. It’s like he can hear that twelve year old cherbic laugh he’d spent the better part of his childhood chasing. 

“Dimitri.” Felix breathes, awed. Because it’s him. It’s not the boar prince, it’s Dimitri, it’s that boy he thought was dead and gone.

“What- what are you doing here?” Dimitri whispers sharply, relaxing the pressure on Felix’s arms and lowering his blade. His shoulders slump and he brings a trembling hand to his eyepatch. “You left. Ever since....”

At this Felix barks out a laugh, and all at once it dawns on him that they’re all just following delusions blindly into battle. “I left? This isn’t my fault, your majesty.” Felix flinches as the man above him snatches his hand out of the air where it was traitorously making its way toward the other’s face. 

“Don’t call me that.” Dimitri says as he laces his fingers through Felix’s. He brings them back up to his face and for the first time in over a decade, Felix feels, what he thought to be, the lost warmth of this corpse’s flesh.

Felix’s breath picks up and when he instinctually pulls his hand away, the loss of contact feels like a blow to the chest. “Why- why are you doing this?” 

“I miss you,” comes Dimitri’s dejected response, and he doesn’t resist when Felix finally sits up, knocking the other man onto his hip in the process. 

“You miss me?” Felix says incredulously. This must be some sort of cosmic joke, this teasing. This mocking. “You miss me? I’ve been here. I’ve been here the whole damn time!” Felix rises to his knees now, his eyes sting like simmering coals. “You are the one who disappeared. In-”

“Duscar.” Dimitri finishes. Even sat back on his shins he looms almost half a head taller than Felix. “Yes, I suppose that’s what it would look like from your perspective.”

“My perspective?” Felix scoffs, but before he can finish the thought, a firm arm snakes around his midsection and forces him once again towards the floor. 

Now kneeling forehead to forehead, Felix can feel the blood pulsing in his ears. His heart matches the knock of Dimitri’s skull against his own as the man begins to sob an apology into his ear, and as a large hand fists its way into his ponytail he feels his resolve melt completely. Because finally. Finally, he can see the humanity behind the boar’s mask. 

“Where have you been?” Felix whispers brokenly, and Dimitri surges forward.

As far as kisses go Felix doesn’t exactly have anything to compare this to, but the carnal twisting in his stomach seems like a good sign. The hand Dimitri had clutched in his hair leaves a molten trail as it falls between his shoulder blades.

“It got so long.” Dimitri says, running a hair through the waves now pooling over Felix’s shoulders. “You look like-”

“Don’t say it.” Felix interrupts, diving back toward Dimitri’s mouth, and at this point he can’t muster up any excuses for his actions. Dimitri brings a hand to his shoulder and gently pushes him toward the ground. Felix doesn’t even put on a show of resistance. 

Dimitri runs his hands down Felix’s clothed torso, and when Dimitri slots a knee between his thighs, he flinches at the bolt of pleasure that rockets down his spine. 

“Look at me.” Dimitri commands, stilling him with a firm squeeze to the hip.

“I’ve never done this before.” Felix admits, reluctantly bringing his gaze to Dimitri’s and cursing the hot flush he can feel spreading across his cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can stop.”

“I don’t want you to.” 

Felix levels the prince with a challenging stare and Dimitri returns it with a carnal grin. 

“Off,” he demands suddenly, gesturing impatiently at Felix’s leather armor before lifting his own shirt over his head. 

Felix is no stranger to Dimitri’s body. Privacy is a luxury not often afforded by war, but to have him here, bathed in shadow and darkness, all angles and crevices on display just for him. It takes his breath away faster than any sparring session they may have shared in the past. 

Dimitri preens bashfully. He sits back and brings Felix’s right hand to his collarbone, tracing their fingers over the scar there. The puckered white tissue glistens as a stray moonbeam finds it through one of the stained glass windows. 

Dimitri turns Felix’s head, bringing his ear to his lips as he whispers, “These were all for you.” 

Felix wants to ask what the fuck that means, but only a surprised yelp pushes its way through his lips as he feels teeth bite down on his earlobe. 

“Let me take care of you.” Dimitri says in a desperate, pleading sort of way, and isn’t that all Felix has wanted for the past ten years? 

Dimitri licks a stripe from Felix’s ear to the undone lacing of his undershirt. He latches onto Felix’s collar bone, and rucks his shirt up beneath his armpits. He brings a thumb up to circle one of Felix’s nipples, and before he even applies pressure, Felix’s hips cant up to meet Dimitri’s. 

Dimitri lifts his head, lips quirked and spit slick.

“More?”

“Don’t patronize me.” Felix snaps, hooking a thigh around Dimitri’s knees, crashing their hips together. 

Like the animals they are, they rut against each other in a frenzied rhythm. Dimitri brings his mouth to Felix’s, but all Felix can do is breathe groan after groan into him. Not one to allow himself any regular indulgence in such...carnal activities, Felix is harder than he’s ever been. It’s all he can do to keep himself together when Dimitri reaches between their writhing bodies. He fingers the growing wet spot at the front of Felix’s trousers before sliding down Felix’s body to nose as it. 

“Goddess, you smell amazing.” Dimitri groans into his thigh, and maybe it’s the fact that they’re at the foot of the altar, but when Dimitri invokes the Goddess’s name Felix lets out an honest mewl.

Dimitri makes swift work of his pants, dragging them down his hips in one swift motion and latching onto the head of Felix’s cock with an appetite Felix has only seen from him in the throes of battle. Felix hands instantly find their way to Dimitri’s unruly hair, pulling violently, as if encouraging the other man to swallow him whole. 

Felix thinks he feels Dimitri chuckle around his length but truly, all he can register is the warmth of Dimitri’s throat and the white hot pulse in his abdomen. He can’t imagine where Dimitri learned to suck dick like this but it’s all encompassing enough that he doesn’t realize there’s a finger circling his asshole until Dimitri starts to push in.

He feels himself clamp down around the digit, his entire body jerking away from the foreign sensation. 

“Relax.” Dimitri rasps, a line of saliva attaching his swollen lips to the purpling head of Felix’s cock; the sight almost sends Felix’s eyes rolling. “Focus on my mouth.” 

Felix nods and lies back, willing himself to relax. He throws his arm across his face, ashamed at how easily he’s fallen apart. 

“I truly cannot believe you’ve never done this to yourself.” Dimitri says in quiet awe, almost to himself. “The amount of times I’ve worked myself open to the thought of you, only to spend the rest of the night in broken shame...I always promised I would never do it again. That it was disrespectful, perverse. But, goddess does it not feel so good?” 

He breaks off when Felix lets out an impatient, “Mitri!” surprise momentarily clouding his eye at the long forgotten childhood nickname.

As soon as it comes though, it goes. He crawls up the length of Felix’s body once more, taking his jaw in his hands and placing his fingers on the plush surface of Felix’s lower lip. 

“Here, suck.” He instructs, prying Felix’s mouth open. “Get them wet, it’ll make it easier.”

Felix obeys, opening his mouth and dragging his tongue between the prince’s lithe fingers. Goddess they’re so long. Felix’s closes his lips around three, bringing them to the back of his throat. He can feel the salvia dripping out the sides of his mouth, the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, but the groans he pulls out of Dimitri every time his teeth scrapes one of his knuckles push him on despite the shameful picture his burning face must make. How the hell did Dimitri take his entire dick?

Dimitri gently taps Felix’s jaw with his free hand, pulling his slick fingers out.

“Can you spread these?” Dimitri asks, placing a firm hand on Felix’s knee. He runs a light hand down his thigh and Felix can feel his muscles’ twitch. He wants this, the throbbing, borderline painful, cock curving heavily toward his stomach is clear evidence of how much he wants this. It’s just, to present himself in this vulnerable way, to never be able to separate this moment from the boar.

But then Dimitri smiles at him in such an appreciative, non-performative way, like they’re not even here, like this is a memory he’s fondly recalling. And Felix desperately wants to live on like that for him. He wants to be what lights that moon-bright eye, not what clouds it. So he swallows his humiliation and lets his thighs fall to the side. He closes his eyes and does all that he can to relax his body into Dimitri’s gentle fingers. 

Dimitri takes him in his mouth again, this time with just enough vigor to distract him from the finger slowly moving inside of him. Felix whines at the loss of momentum, canting his hips in a silent plea, but the prince just places a firm hand on his thigh and grunts. From between his legs he levels him with a glare that brings Felix’s stomach to a boil.

“I-” Felix starts, but settles with a desperate, “Another,” instead.

Dimitri obliges, focusing his attention on gently scissoring Felix open, pausing unconsciously now and again to grind himself down against the other man’s shin. It’s just when Dimitri begins to barely brush places Felix could never have imagined existed that he gently removes his now three working fingers.

Felix’s hips give a frenzied twitch, chasing what had been so steadily building. Like his spine was the body of a bow almost ready almost pulled taught, almost ready for release.

He lets out a needy whine as he watches Dimitri sit back on his knees and work his hand up and down his own shaft, slicking himself up; a vacant look of carnal repose glinting in his half lidded eye. He then crawls back up Felix’s body, settling between his splayed thighs and, spreading Felix open, while he positions himself right at his opening.

Felix, to his credit, holds himself still as his heart jackrabbits in his chest. He sees stars of both pain and the anticipation of pleasure when he feels Dimitri’s head break through. His hand shoots to Dimitri’s shoulder, desperate to find purchase on any sort of physicality.

Bracing his weight on his right arm, Dimitri brings his left hand to Felix’s. He stills his hips, Felix assumes (gratefully) out of courtesy, as he brings his hand up to Felix’s. He hangs his head, but Felix can just make out the movement of lips through the ragged curtain of tangled blonde that sweeps between them.

“I’ve thought about this often. Since I entered my fifteenth year.” Dimitri says quietly, and Felix can hardly hear him. The sight of their connected bodies sends his head spinning.

“It’s a despicable way to honor someone, but ever since we were small it had been you. I couldn’t help myself, do you understand?”

“Move.” Felix groans, trying to position his hips in any sort of productive way, but Dimitri raises his hand to Felix’s chin, pausing Felix’s desperate movements.

“Will you not just disappear again?” Dimitri demands. “I have not seen this face in months. There are too many now! Will you not take this from me, just to fade back into the chorus?”

Felix’s brow furrows. He can’t think clearly but he sees that film begin to form over Dimitri’s gaze once again. 

“After Duscar- should the first time not be the most difficult?” Dimitri’s voice is rising now and a desperate, broken note breaks through their heavy panting. “But every time you fade, it pierces deeper than the last.” 

After Duscar. After Duscar. After Duscar. After Duscar. 

The words pound in rhythm with the blood in his ears and he wrenches Dimitri’s face around to meet his own.

“Say my name.” Felix commands harshly. Violently. “Say my name, boar. SAY IT.” He’s screaming, his ribs feel like they’re cracking and each breath feels like a stab to his lungs. “Say it, SAY IT.”

The prince blinks, confused. He brings his hand to cover Felix’s left and flinches when he feels nails dig into his cheek. 

“Glenn?” Dimitri asks. Quietly. Simply. Like nothing at all.

And Felix gags. He feels like someone’s stuck their arm down his throat and pulled out his heart. He drops the boar’s face. He wrestles himself out of his grip and tries to scramble out from under him. Both men cringe as the tip of Dimitri’s cock catches on Felix’s rim, and Felix has to pause to clamp his throat down around the acid that threatens to escape it. 

He rolls onto his knees, stumbling as he struggles to find purchase on the cloak beneath him, and Dimitri just stares at him from his hands and knees. Blankly. Dumfounded. Hurt.

“Felix.” Felix says. Quiet this time. Icily. As vicious as a dagger to the back of the neck. He grabs his trousers, sneering in disgust at the painful bobbing of his persistent hardness. 

“Felix.” He says as he stalks through the pews. He doesn’t listen for movement, he doesn’t listen for a response.

When finds an exit he fights himself into his pants. He collapses against the doorframe, exhausted and confused. Aching and furious. He bangs his head against the stone but the stars he sees are now too familiar. He’s alone. He brings his knees to his bare, heaving chest, hiding his damp cheeks from no one but the moon.


End file.
